Making a Different Call
by AthenaMay24
Summary: A version of Clint and Natasha meeting for the first time. Based on the MCU not the comics. One-shot. Almost Clintasha. I own nothing.


**A/N This fic is basically my version of when Clint and Natasha first met, and Clint 'made a different call.' It's based off of the MCU, and has no relation to the comics; I don't even know how this happened in the comics. Feel free to enlighten me, if you know. I was having writers block on my other Clintasha fic, "Just Another Mission", and this popped into my head and wouldn't leave until I typed it. So here it is. Please review!**

Natasha felt and saw the arrow that whizzed past her head as she walked down the Paris street.

"I didn't have to miss." A man's voice came from a short rooftop to her left. The owner of the voice was young, probably about her age, and from America, probably south Iowa or north Nebraska.

"Are you quoting _The Princess Bride_?" Natasha asked, looking at the shadow.

The man jumped from the roof and shot another arrow as he twisted in the air. The arrow struck the eye of a painted lady on a nearby sign. The painted lady looked quite similar to Natasha. The mysterious archer landed lightly on the balls of his feet as if he jumped from roofs every day. "You tell me," he said, stepping into the open. He was of medium build, average height, with remarkable blue eyes and sandy blonde hair.

Natasha's eyes flicked to the eagle on his arm. "Wow, SHIELD actually sent _Hawkeye_ after me? I'm touched," Natasha's voice dripped sarcasm. Most people would be looking for ways to escape this predicament, but not Natasha. She was indifferent. It wasn't the first assassin sent after her and it wouldn't be the last. This one was wither stupid or like all the others. Probably both. Every assassin sent after her was never able to finish the job because a) they were no match for Natasha, or b) they became caught up in her looks. It was _so_ sloppy for an assassin to get distracted by a target's appearance. But it always happened, men were men. She knew this better than most, often using her looks to attract and take out targets. She never let a man's appearance distract her. For instance, Hawkeye was moderately handsome, with those fascinating eyes, but Natasha had no qualms about killing him. But she would have some fun first.

"Yep," Hawkeye said cheerfully, not a bit deterred by the knowledge that the red-head before him could kill him at any moment.

Natasha rolled her eyes, "Since you obviously want me to ask, why did you miss?" Let's see what information she could get.

Hawkeye smirked, "Thanks for asking. Well, you see," he affected the tone of a lecturing professor, "I think we can use you at SHIELD. My superiors don't think so, I'm ordered to kill you, but I read your file." He looked at her intently. Those eyes really were something. "I think we need you."

"SHIELD needs me, or you need me?"

"I'm not following. What?"

"You heard me. As a general rule, the only time an assassin speaks to his target is when he's attracted to her."

"Maybe I'm a rule breaker," Hawkeye shrugged, "So what if I am? You're very attractive," he smiled wolfishly, "And I was prepared to invite you to SHIELD anyway."

"Were you? What exactly about my 'file' gave you pause?"

"You seem to be a woman who knows when a good opportunity comes along."

"And what makes you an opportunity worth investing in?"

"_SHIELD_ has good pay and some fun missions. Depends on what makes you tick," he was still looking at her with his hypnotic eyes. "So, what makes you tick?" he asked softer.

"Sexy men with pretty blue eyes."

"Well, sorry, there's only one of those at SHIELD. But you're in luck. He's taken a liking to you."

"Oh, I'm honored," she scoffed.

"Come on, Natasha," she narrowed her eyes at the use of her name and the soft tone he employed, "I know you are starting to chafe under Mother Russia."

"How do you know that?"

"You botched your last seven missions. Purposely."

She froze. No one, not even her boss, knew she purposely failed as her last missions. "What?" she asked carefully.

"Why would the Black Widow suddenly start missing? why did her Widow's Bites suddenly start glitching after years of working perfectly? Why –"

"Okay. I get the picture," she squinted, "What do you want?"

"What do I want? I want you to join SHIELD. But I won't blackmail you, I have standards."

"So you won't tell the Red Room I'm sabotaging myself?"

"No. I'll even walk away with only a promise that you won't kill me the minute I turn my back."

"You won't finish your job?"

"No. I don't like killing pretty ladies. And if you keep 'messing up', you won't even be a threat anymore. Bye," Hawkeye turned around and started walking away.

She followed. Thinking back on it, Natasha decided it must've been his eyes that intrigued her so; it couldn't have been any interest in the master archer. Of course, he knew she was following him, and she knew he knew, but he gave no sign. He led her to a uniform building on the outskirts of Paris.

He was waiting for her inside the door, "Welcome to SHIELD. I'm Clint, by the way."

"Thanks . . . Clint."


End file.
